


Sad beautiful tragic

by JustaTWDfangirl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Immortal, Love Story, M/M, Young Rick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 07:24:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17894024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustaTWDfangirl/pseuds/JustaTWDfangirl
Summary: To Daryl, time is meaningless. When the world around him changes, he still stays as a twenty year old and makes friends with nature, because humans are threats to him. Lonely years keep passing, until he meets the one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy the story!

Daryl can’t age. Time doesn’t have any effect on him.  

When he was born, he was like everybody else. Sucked his thumb when he was a baby, learned how to speak when he was two, ran with the deer in the woods when he’s old enough to take care of himself alone. Well, maybe the last part wasn’t right to everybody. Merle, his older brother, usually took him on hunting trips and taught him how to pee on a rock. Not just  _on_  it, but on the center of it. Gradually Daryl mastered the art of silence and tried his best to use it whenever he got beaten and Merle wasn’t around to fence for his little brother against the flying limbs and bitter words of their pa. When his mother and the shabby cabin where they lived were taken away by the greedy hands of fire, his pa moved them to a town where horses were used to carry people and oil lamps to brighten the paved roads. His pa and Merle sold venison, hides and fur to the town folks, and although those people didn’t seem to communicate with the Dixons in a warm and friendly way, they didn’t turn down their goods either.  

Over time, Daryl’s hair got darker and his limbs got longer. His voice became deeper and raspier just like his two seniors. Years of hard work made his arms and shoulders stronger and more defined. The girls in town sometimes sent him looks that he didn’t really give much thought to. Merle kept jumping from here to there, flirting with any young female-like shape he came across. Secretly Daryl knew his older brother also fooled around with some of the blue-blooded old ladies to get at their purses. 

As time passed, his pa’s yelling got weaker and Merle’s face began to be etched with creases, not until then Daryl knew that something was very wrong with his body. His skin showed no sign of aging and his face didn’t change anymore since he reached the age of 20. Still, his hair kept getting longer like it always had so he had to cut it periodically. Rumors and whispers started to spread among the big town about Daryl being a witch or he possessing some kind of dark magic. It couldn’t be hidden that they wanted the Dixons to leave and never come back. His pa almost went crazy as he drunk himself to sleep every night with hope of being able to forget about his ‘freak of a son’. Merle would defense for him when people acted out of control, but sometimes Daryl caught  _this look_  that his brother gave him, not a reprimand, just pure wonder. 

Daryl didn’t know what he was either, and loathed himself to no end. He once went swimming at the lake near his old house and with the cool, gentle waves of water enveloping him from all sides, whose color reminded him of his ma’s eyes, he felt at peace and closed his eyes to dip under the surface, wanting to stay there forever. But then his lungs burned, his eyes sprang open and all he saw was darkness. It was his fear that got the best of him, hovering all over him and pulling him up from the heavy water. Daryl’s cursing himself and crying in the middle of the lake, no one was around to hear them, even Merle.  

One night there’s a broken sound of glass window, and then came the yelling and hollering. Daryl woke up to find Merle’s worry face above him, yelling at him to ‘ _Get the fuck out of here now_ _Darylina_ _!_ ’. The fire was burning outside, rocks were thrown into their house, prayers of someone were a blur in Daryl’s ears. His dad’s drunken laugh slapped him back to reality before Merle pushed him through the backdoor and squeezed his shoulder hard it’s almost painful and shut the door. He vaguely remembered Merle said something about distracting people's attention for Daryl to make a run for it. He started turning to blindly pick his way accross the dark yard, his heart beating wild. With no destination in mind, Daryl just ran and ran, not looking back to see his house once again was on fire. Daryl felt his eyes burning as well. He ran out of town and into the woods, his brother’s last meaningful look repeated into a loop in his head.  


	2. Chapter 2

The fallen leaves crumble under the deer’s deliberate hooves. 

Daryl starts to load his crossbow with fluid movement, his keen eyes never leaving the deer. He has lost count of how many times he has done this. It has become a habit, an instinct to him that he barely has to look to put the bolt into the right place. The scope narrows his focus down to the moving body of the graceful deer. Deer are observant, beautiful creatures, at least to him. That fact makes hunting them a thrilling experience, even after all the years living, or surviving, in these woods. He has stumbled to the cities a few times, but then decided that they’re not the place for him, so he came back here, fixed up the old log house no one was the owner of and stayed. Daryl puts his finger on the trigger and waits for the deer to turn broadside to fire the deadly shot.     

A small rustling coming from the deer’s left draws his attention. He tilts his heavy weapon a little bit and the crosshairs catch on a trembling bush. Daryl lifts his head from the scope and breathes out a huff of air, lowering his crossbow. The mother deer immediately stops munching on a branch to swivel its head towards his direction, no doubt heard him or smelled his scent, its mouth still holding some leaves.  _Damn smart creature_ , Daryl thinks as he looks out to where the two deer are. The fawn is jumping around, romping making the dried leaves fly up in the air, oblivious of the hunter’s presence.  

Water is cool and smells like pureness when Daryl splatters it over his heated face. His back and chest are damp with sweat, and he contemplates a swim in the stream to erase the traces of summer heat on his body. Finally making up his mind, Daryl puts down his belongings for the hunt together with his bow to the bank before stripping down leisurely, thankful for all the foliage that surrounds the area, even though there’s nobody around to see him. A camp site was built earlier this year, just half a mile away from his place. Daryl hopes he doesn’t have to encounter any of those who occupy those camps. Not that he never meets people, he does go into town for supplies sometimes and actually has a couple of friends there, like Carol, or Aaron the nice dude who lost one arm from a car accident, but he won’t stick around them for too long before they realize what his true nature is. Daryl scoffs, as if  _he_ knows what he is. He wiggles his toes against the pebbles, feeling them dig into the soles of his feet.   

The jumble of thought is interrupted, startling and unexpected, as Daryl hears something, like a big rock is thrown into the water, not far away from where he’s swimming. And then a cry, is that a child’s cry that he just heard? Daryl debates for only a split of second before starting to quickly make his way through the water to the small human who is flailing and coughing and in a mess of panic, only dimly aware that he’s wearing nothing. The kid is drowning rapidly and a second later there’s no sign of him left on the wavering surface. After taking a huge gasp of breath, Daryl dives under the water and is looking, searching through the area and _there he is_ , a black ball of hair and dark pants, floating and descending slowly to the bottom. Daryl finally gets to him and reaches out to grasp his shirt and with all of his focus he drags the boy up to resurface with a huge gasp for the much-needed air. Getting out of the stream doesn’t take much time, but Daryl’s heart is still beating like crazy as he pulls the passed-out boy up the bank who shows no sign of breathing, worry that he might be too late. The kid’s skin is so very pale. 

“Hey, buddy, hey,” Daryl slaps his wet cheek then turns to shake his shoulders, anything to wake the boy up, his voice loud in his own ears. He looks around desperately, but no one’s in sight, no parents, no friends of the poor kid.  _God dammit._ He never feels the urge to do something like this before, it’s like a thousand hands are reaching out and pulling at him, squeezing him, crushing him. Daryl doesn’t know why, but his own hand holds out and places itself against the boy’s chest, where his heart lays.  

...A beat. Daryl can  _feel_  it.  

After a few more seconds that feels like forever, the boy’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks before he coughs violently and curls up, wincing and gasping. The hunter breathes out a sigh of relief, watching the boy struggle to sit up. “Shit, I thought... You’re alright now kiddo.” 

Like he only just registers that there’s someone else besides himself, the kid turns his dripping wet head to acknowledge Daryl, taking him in. And a moment later Daryl finds himself in a sea of beautiful watery blue eyes. And then the gaze drops down to Daryl’s state of undressing, his eyes widening. 

 _Shit_ , Daryl thinks before remembering where he dropped his clothes earlier and stumbling to go back to the water to hide himself. This day sure is one of the weirdest days in his everlasting life.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way to meet your 'the one' for the first time, Daryl!
> 
> And let's be clear, I'm not gonna let Daryl fall in love with a kid in that way, so don't worry:)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heard Daryl say "I ain't gonna stop looking. Not ever." and my emotions were all over the place:( (if you have watched ss9ep14 you'll know what I'm talking about)

 

“How come nobody is looking after you?” 

He treads on a twig purposefully and hears it snap with a small hum in his throat. The kid is trailing behind him, those eyes gluing on the tattered wings on his old biker vest. He’s oddly quiet for a child, so Daryl has felt the weird urge to speak to break the silence. 

He turns around to see the boy startle slightly then snuffle. Daryl bites the inside of his cheek and pulls out a semi-clean rag that he has always used to wipe his sweat, not much but that’s all he’s got. He waves the piece of cloth in front of him, motioning for the kid to take it. 

“I sneaked out on my own. They wouldn’t know.” Daryl’s eyes open wide at that.  

“They?” 

“My parents, I mean.” He shrugs one shoulder and grabs the rag with a shy 'thank you'.  

“You usually do that?”  

“Sometimes.” The kid dries himself as much as possible with the given red rag and after that promptly puts it in his trouser pocket. Daryl shrugs to himself at that and continues his walking, clearly aware of that intent gaze again on his back. “You shouldn’t. Look how well that went.” 

“I just slipped. The ground was wet.” The pout can be heard through his voice. 

“Whatever. Doesn’t matter how you got into the water. What matters is how to avoid falling into it.” 

“Or how to get out of it. Maybe you can teach me how to swim?” The kid asks, running a few steps ahead of him. Daryl shakes his head, amused and sorry for the hopefulness in the question, at the same time amazed by the boy’ smart reply. 

“No can do. You don’t even know me kid.” 

“Do you live in the woods?” After a moment of appreciated silence, he queries again with a curious look in his eyes.  

“Yeah.” Daryl answers in honesty, somehow feeling like making it up to the young boy for not teaching him how to swim. At that, the kid nods several times and falls back to merely following Daryl’s lead. They keep moving at a sedate pace. Daryl knows every nook and cranny of the terrain so he walks with ease. The kid obviously doesn’t so mindfully the hunter slows down to wait for him. The sun hangs lower with each passing minute, and soon, behind the trees and bushes appear the tents and small trailers and smoke in the air from cooking.  

“Go back to your parents, kid. And don’t go wandering out here alone again.” Daryl says in lieu of a goodbye and shoulders his crossbow.  

“I could have gotten back here by myself. You really didn’t have to do this.” The kid steps forward and pass him with a stubborn mumble.       

“Well I didn’t hear your protest earlier. And I’d walk you back anyway even if I did.” Daryl regards the small dude with a lift at the corner of his mouth. He shifts his attention towards the people who are busying themselves with preparing dinner and chatting, finding no way to understand how the kid’s parents haven’t known about the absence of their son yet. Out of the corner of his eye Daryl notices the kid looks over the camping site with something resembling a rueful glint in his expression. It surprises Daryl that the boy seems to like staying alone in the forest than being near those people.  _What makes you sad kiddo?_  Daryl's mind is filled with concern for him but eventually he shakes his head and turns around to start the trek back to his house. It’s none of his business, and he won’t meet this kid ever again for all he knows. A pang of sadness suddenly invades his inside, and it makes him confused for a brief second. 

"Thank you. For taking me back." The kid relents at last, still there's true gratefulness when he says it. Daryl nods to him, giving a small smile. "Mm hmm, now I gotta get back too."

“ _Hey_ , I’m Rick Grimes. What’s your name?” The kid calls when Daryl has gone further in to the darkening forest. Daryl idly wonders whether those brown strands of hair could get darker when the boy grows up. Whether his eyes could keep being so blue and shimmering when time wears him down.

“I'm Daryl.” He hollers back, and slips back into the dense foliage. Long after that he still can feel the heartbeat in his palm, warm and very alive.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading and sorry for the lateness. I was kinda stuck at one point but here is chapter 4. It's a little bit longer than the others;)  
> *Please check the previous chapter because I have adjusted the last part of it so the story can be read easier.

_These_ _dreams_ _are_ _always_ _the_ _same_ _._  

 _The scythe is glowing a dark simmering red. Daryl can see two hollow eye sockets under the hood, haunting and unforgettable. The lake is quiet, still, so still like a_ _landscape_ _painting_ _in an abandoned house_ _. The more he tries to breathe the more the air seems to be withdrawn from his lungs. His feet ache like he has run a thousand miles before he came here. Maybe he has, who knows. It feels like reality. Daryl doesn’t think that he’ll ever forget this coldness which is seeping into his every pore._  

 _Death is standing in the middle of the lake. The tip of the scythe touches the surface softly when he brandishes it_ _,_ _small round circles of water_ _spreading and disappearing_ _. Death brings his pale, bony hand out and_ _rolls his fingers to his palm_ _. He wants Daryl to come to him, the hunter thinks as a vague voice rings in his head. It sounds like many voices blended into one._  

 

‘It’s time to go.’ 

 

 _Daryl swallows a lump in his throat_ _and senses himself move forward_ _. One step. The second his shoe touches the water the surface starts undulating almost immediately_ _. Three steps. The closer he gets to Death, the more wavering the water looks. Eight steps._ _The waves crash against the lone boat in the distance, swirling ragingly around him, droplets of white bubble splashing into the air_ _. What’s the number? He’s distracted again. Daryl can’t help but stare at Death’s face, where he thinks something resembling an angry expression is showing on._  

 

‘How dare you? 

You must know.  

Our deal is no longer valid.’ 

 

 _What deal? Daryl_ _wants to_ _ask_ _but his tongue feels like lead and without warning Death raises the scythe_ _over_ _his head. All Daryl sees is a flash of the blade before the water opens itself up under his feet and swallows him down in a matter of seconds. The pressure pressing against him makes him open his mouth to call for help but instead he has water, a lot of water, pouring into his throat and lungs._ _Maybe, just maybe, he_ can _die for real this time_ _-_  

 

With a cry Daryl starts up on his bed, the springs squeaking under him as he does so. A layer of sweat is covering his naked back and his heart is pounding heavily like it’s going to burst. No matter how many times this dream has happened, he’s always been left shaken after waking up. It’s no different this time. Feeling nauseous, he staggers to the bathroom door. There’s not much in his stomach though, just water. He didn’t eat much yesterday. Daryl groans and flushes the toilet, still dizzy. He goes to the sink and brushes his teeth leisurely with his finger and the lemon-scented toothpaste tube that has only a little left.  

The old bathroom door creaks behind him then comes a whimper. Daryl wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and splashes water on his face before turning around to see Dog poking his head around the door, whose brown eyes are fixed on Daryl curiously. Humming a tuneless melody, he starts to walk out of his room and down the corridor, scratching his stubbly chin. Dog follows him with a bark, his nails clicking against the wooden floor. He stops to run in circles which makes Daryl burst out a small laugh.  

“Okay okay, you pushy.”   

While Dog is taking care of his business outside the house, Daryl, still shirtless, makes himself a mug of black coffee, sighing in mild relief and letting his mind wander. Breathing in the fresh air always makes him feel better, so he pads over to the porch and eases himself down the rest chair there, feeling like an old man not for the first time.  

He never should have told the kid his name. What’s the point of that anyway? It’s not something he usually does, letting his guard down. And the dream, it has reappeared a lot these days. What does it mean? Will Daryl ever know? He is frustrated not knowing the answer to all of that. With a gulp he finishes the bitter drink and a single drop falls on his sparsely-haired chest. Daryl uses his thumb to wipe it away and brings it to his mouth, licking the liquid off. He’s out of coffee too. Gotta go into town and buy some more, which is not something he enjoys doing. But coffee calms his nerves just as good as fresh air does. The radio is playing a jazz song by Doris Day as a request, and Daryl lets the colorful streaks of morning light invade his pupils. 

 

 _‘_ _I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear_  

 _Just saying_ _this_  

 

 _Sweet dreams_ _till sunbeams find you_  

 _Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you_ _’_  

 

His dozing is cut short by Dog’s loud bark. Glancing over the yard quickly while running down the porch stairs, Daryl tries to see through the bushes that is hiding Dog and the ‘thing’ that he’s barking at. Probably snakes. Traps are put here and there around the place to catch them, but they don’t always work as good as how he wants them to. If Dog isn’t careful, he’ll get bitten - 

Dog keeps barking and Daryl hears a shriek before he arrives. Under the bush there’s a kid, and the other one is running like hell for the woods, at the same time crying out loud about seeing a wolf for real. “Run Rick!” He calls but then keeps on running and trips a little in the process. If Daryl isn’t so pissed off he would have found it quite funny. 

Slightly breathless, he looks down at the kid – Rick, who is sitting on the ground and staring up at him wild-eyed, and vaguely Daryl notices that Dog has stopped his threatening.  

“What the... What are you doing here?” He fumes loudly, looking around to see if anyone else is here.  

Rick seems to notice his worry. “It's just me.” He says, rubbing his pale wrist.  

Then he swivels his head to the direction which his company is heading to before turning back and sheepishly adding. “And him. Hi Daryl.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Dream A Little Dream of Me by Doris Day for anyone who wants to know!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! *Pokes her head back up* This is the longest chapter yet. I don't know if I can keep the chapters short like before anymore. I did it because I wanted to control the grammars and phrases, but as the story continues, I realise that it no longer can be done that way, otherwise it'll affect the storyline. So high chance you guys will have longer chapters from now on.  
> Enjoy!

“How old are you two anyway?” If his stare can kill, the two kids would have been sent to the kingdom come by now, Daryl thinks. He has gone back into the house and pulled a t-shirt on which smells of old woods and dry air. The familiar of them still can't bring him out of the pissy mood that's he's in right now. Standing in his overgrown yard with two little strangers that he's just caught lurking around his house, yeah, pissy is not exactly the right word for it. 

“Twelve, sir.” Rick replies dutifully.  

“I'm four months older than him.” The other kid says, eyeing Dog who is sitting on the front porch eyeing him back warily with a laser-like focus. 

“Anyway, listen. You can't lurk around people's properties like this. They will charge you for doing so if you kids are grown-ups.” In his mind Daryl knows that that he won't do even if it's the case. The cabin is not so legal, but hey, nobody needs to know that. 

“We're not though.” Rick’s friend turns to look at him. He has this candy floss-like hairdo which is starting to unnerve Daryl for some reasons. 

“Doesn't mean you don't have to take responsibility for things you've done.” _Damn_. Since when has he become mentor for kids that he barely knows. Daryl swallows down a groan bubbling in his throat and shakes his head slowly. The garden is still waiting to be watered, and he can list one thousand and one things he’d rather do than standing here swatting roaming kids on their asses.  

“You're right. We're sorry, sir.” Rick ducks his head guiltily, at the same time elbows his friend in the side. 

“Yeah, we're so sorry.” The other kid drags the word 'so' a little bit, causing Daryl to roll his eyes. And the second the kid's eyes open wide when he glances over Daryl's shoulder into the open shed door, the hunter realizes what a mess he has gotten himself into. 

"Holy cow! You got a bike?” Candy floss exclaims excitedly, already a few steps towards where the shed is. “Hey Rick, look how slick it is!” 

"Hey, don't touch it.” Daryl turns around and,  _God_ is he pissed off, but still he's gotta try not to act like an angry caveman or some weird old-timer who's trying to mark his swamp. Bike isn't even a 'bike’ yet. Old parts he collected from a man's repair garage (whose name’s Bob Stookey), which were given as a thank-you gift for doing him a favor cleaning a buck when they met a few months ago, during hunting season. The body has already been assembled, Bob said he just needed to put the wheels in and fix the brake. Daryl thinks he can do it. Bob has told him that he's a quick learner. And the bike, he likes it a lot more than he cares to admit.  

“I didn't bring him with me. Shane just followed.” He hears Rick say over the droning of cicadas and insects around them.  

“Don't need to explain yourself to me.” Seeing the honest in Grimes' blue eyes eases Daryl’s temper down a few notches. In the shed ‘candy floss’ is poking at the disc brake curiously. Rick has this way of jerking his chin, then rubs his wrist again absentmindedly.  

Daryl chews on his lower lip when he sees that. The kid must have hurt himself when Dog startled him and Shane earlier. Daryl knows he can’t turn a blind eye to that.  

“Give me your hand.”  

“What? Why?”  

“You're hurt. We gotta see about it. You don't want to leave it like that, believe me.” Daryl starts to kneel down on one knee for a better look. 

“Nah I’m fine.” Rick insists. 

“No you’re not. Let me see it.”  

The kid has a hard head, he must say. Staring him down, Daryl lets him know that there's no other way around. A wrist pain can turn to something more wicked if it isn't treated right and soon. It takes a while that Daryl thinks Rick won't obey him but to his surprise, Rick offers his wrist for Daryl, much to his dismay which is showed by the way Rick huffs, his cheeks puffing out slightly. After examining Rick's pale wrist, the hunter pulls away carefully.  

He chances a glance at Shane then finally stands up, hollering. 

“Hey, you guys fancy some tea?” 

\-- 

While Shane is jumping around in his kind of ancient-looking guestroom, gaping at almost everything that his eyes can reach, Rick also seems amazed but eventually just stares at the enamel coffee pot on the kitchen counter.  

“Your house is so strange.” Shane comments, admiring the faded wall tapestry above the fire place. 

“Thanks.” Daryl takes the rock off the gas stove and wraps it in his dish towel before giving it to Grimes, who mumbles a small 'thanks' in return. Daryl is genuinely surprised that he can remember the kid’s last name, but he quickly chases the thought away. “Now sit down kid. You're starting to make me feel dizzy.” 

He starts pouring two mismatched cups of herbal tea for the two kids then places one on the table for Shane, who's still not done exploring his house yet, and one on the small kitchen table where Rick is sitting.  

“Don't have milk. Sorry.” Daryl explains as he puts the steamy drink down. Rick shrugs at him, his voice appreciative. “It's cool.” 

“Man. Is he always like this?” Daryl says, gesturing at Shane. He's leaning against the kitchen counter with one hand propped behind him. Rick perks his head up at that. 

“All the time. Except for when he's at school though.” Rick keeps the wrapped rock on his wrist with one hand, the other is rolling the cup of tea around with his fingers. Despite himself the hunter is honestly curious in that moment. Other than Dog, he doesn’t exactly have many companies around. A little chat with a stranger wouldn’t hurt, would it? "Why?”  

"'Cause he doesn't want to look like a moron in front of his Sally. Other than _what’s up_  being the first words he says to me every day, the next few are probably always  _Hey Rick, look how_ _sparkling_ _she is today._ ” Rick seems to try to hold in his giggle, but gives up at the last minute, his sound young and bright. The way he has told the story, maybe he has used it on Shane many times before to tease him, Daryl guesses. It makes him want to laugh too, seeing the smile has brightened Rick's whole face, but he keeps the emotions in check.  

“So, you sneak out again?”   

“Yup. The adults at the camp are boring.” Rick brings the tea close to his nose to take a whiff and Daryl has to stiffle a laugh looking at him almost immediately wincing  'cause of the odd aroma. “Well, I ain’t so much fun to hang around with either, if you don't know it yet.” 

“Not true.” Rick shakes his head. “You gotta bike and a dog and live in the middle of the woods.” 

“Ain't all that sound scary to you? You think I'm _harmless_?”  

“You treated my wound, didn’t you.” Rick says, nodding his head at his wrist. He squirms a bit under Daryl’s stare. The hunter’s eyes only divert when he hears a rustle from the front door. Dog must have bored himself outside the house, so he has pushed the door open with his leg to get in and is idly walking through the living room (ignores Shane completely), towards where Rick is, as the kid holds his uninjured hand out. Dog sniffs his palm searchingly with his wet nose and Rick chuckles, tickling. Rick’s legs are too short to touch the ground with how high the chair is, so he lets his feet dangle in the air. Daryl’s mind wonders what is the kid doing here while he should be out there in the world, living a modern life, having barbecue parties in the sun, swimming in the pool, playing...  whatever the hell kids play these days. Rick doesn’t belong here, not like he does. 

“Wow, this tea is actually delicious.” He can hear the awe in Rick's voice. Daryl smiles a little at that. Yeah, he knows how the tea smells like, plus its appearance which is all black, not very nasally  _and_ visually appealing, but once you got a taste of it, you will never forget the way the flavor blooms on your taste buds. And moreover, it has ginger, for Rick's injured wrist. 

They sit like that for a moment in comfortable silence. Daryl absentmindedly thinks about his unwatered garden, and reminds himself to take care of that later. After a while Rick sticks his hand into his trouser pocket and fishes out Daryl's red rag that he's taken when they first met two days ago before giving it back to Daryl.  

“I uh, washed it.” Rick explains, sounding nervous for once. Dog creates a small whimper in his throat then lies down with his head on one of his front legs. The folded cloth smells of washing powder, a touch too much, and Daryl squeezes it in his palm. 

“You came all the way here just to give me back this?” Daryl chuckles, ignoring the slight shake in his own voice.   

Before Rick can get anything out of his mouth, Shane swoops into the kitchen area without warning. He stays as far as possible from Dog, still wary. Dog huffs a disgusted breath and sits up properly before walking away slowly to which the kid lets out a sigh of relief.  

“Rick, it’s late. We gotta get back. And don’t take it personal, Mr. Live Alone In The Woods, this place is truly something else, but we have parents to spank our backsides if they don’t see us around the camp site in like...” Stopping himself, he looks around to find a non-existent clock somewhere in the house. “You don’t have a clock?” He asks incredulously. 

“Shane,” Rick says, scowling. “Don’t be like that.” 

“It’s alright.” Daryl glances out the window. “I’m pretty sure it’s almost mid-day now. Go home. Your parents must be worried.” 

“Nah.” Rick mumbles. “Mine are having a little vacation by themselves somewhere in Georgia. They threw me at Shane’s parents so they could have some time alone together I guess. Anyway, whatever, I don’t mind it much so,”  

Shane scratches his head and looks away.  

Daryl’s heart constricts in his chest for a second. Seems like the kid has two awful adults as parents. He’s not sure what this feelings towards Rick are. Pity or sympathy, he doesn’t know. Maybe both.  

“So you lied to me about them the day we first met.” 

“Yeah. Just didn’t want your pity. Still don’t,” Rick shakes his head, the words ‘don’t give me that look’ blatant in his eyes. And Daryl doesn't fail to notice that, in the pretty blue hue of his eyes, there's something glistening. Probably sunlight.

Daryl gives him a nod. He understands that too. 

\-- 

Lying in his darkened camp, Rick smiles to himself thinking about what Daryl has called him. “ _Stick_ ” he has said. “ _Your friend is like a candy floss and you’re his stick, to keep him in place you know. The kid is like a damn wild hog if ya ask me.”_ The man doesn’t seem lonely, although he practically lives alone. He seems... content enough, and Rick can’t deny that he wants to feel that way too, that maybe he can if he’s around the man long enough. Also, the young German Shepherd dog that he has doesn’t hurt, not at all.  

 

He can’t wait to meet Daryl again.    

   

  

   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's the little shit in here? *Stage whispers* Shaaaanee
> 
> So, I don't exactly have a posting schedule but I'll try my best to update whenever I finish writing a new chapter. *dives back down*

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to "Sad beautiful tragic" when I wrote this.  
> And now you know where the title came from :D


End file.
